


Purpose

by lavellanpls



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Tranquil Mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:10:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavellanpls/pseuds/lavellanpls
Summary: For the prompt: "One thing Lavellan wishes she could have said to any one of her companions"In Redcliffe Village, in a locked house near the docks, Iron Bull makes a terrible mistake."Not like the Tranquil were doing much with them."





	Purpose

It’s a stupid fucking comment.

The Iron Bull realizes that far too late.

They lock pick their way into some spooky little abandoned shack in Redcliffe Village, only to find it full of skulls. It’s sort of a reoccurring theme of their excursions, Bull thinks. The Inquisitor finds a letter talking about the Venatori—apparently they’d made their creepy skull-telescopes from a bunch of dead Tranquil—and gets quiet. Truthfully, Bull’s kind of relieved their origin isn’t creepier. Knowing the Venatori, it could have been a lot worse.

Solas makes some dire comment on it, because of course he does. Everything’s a big, grim travesty to him. Solas is just dramatic like that. His voice gets all grave and shit, like he’s practicing for a eulogy. “So each Oculara,” he utters, “is made from the skull of a Tranquil.”

Bull can’t help smirking. “Not like the _Tranquil_ were doing much with them,” he snidely points out.

He isn’t sure how he meant for it to sound, exactly—he was sort of being funny, sort of just being frank. He didn’t put that much thought into it, honestly. It was an offhand comment, barely memorable, said with a shrug.

Lilith doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t break the even flow of her voice. “Everyone out,” she instructs. She swings her arm back, a sharp, precise motion, and points to Bull without looking at him. “Except you.”

Uh.

Solas and Cassandra file out, exchanging tense, knowing glances that put Bull on edge. Lilith waits until the others are gone, the door sealed shut; rests her hands on her hips and takes a great, heaving sigh. When she looks Bull’s way her face is exhausted. “Take a seat.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Her tone doesn’t shift. She says, again, “Take a seat, son.”

_Son._

Uh oh. Nothing good ever follows those words.

The Iron Bull doesn’t argue. He takes a seat, at attention. “What’s up, boss?”

Nothing about her really changes, not noticeably. The leisurely swagger of her stride is the same as always, the smirking little quirk at the corner of her lips still there, unchanged, unaffected. Nothing about her is different, physically, but Bull _feels_ it—a heaviness in the atmosphere, a dark and crackling sort of foreboding like the air before a lightning storm. A thick and oppressive presence.

“Let’s talk,” she says. Her voice is the same. Even. Conversational. But that’s not quite right, either.

Every familiar thing feels just slightly off. Like something sharp and seething wears her skin like a suit, but doesn’t quite fit.

Lilith is almost eye level with him when she places a hand on his shoulder, grip just slightly too firm for comfort, locks eyes with him, and evenly asks, “Why do you deserve to live?”

Her voice isn’t angry. Isn’t even particularly upset. Bull isn’t sure why that’s so fucking terrifying to him in that moment.

“Uh…what?”

“Why should you keep your head?” she asks. It’s phrased as a simple question. “Make an argument for yourself.”

“This about the Tranquil comment? ‘Cause…I feel like that answer’s pretty damn obvious.”

She asks, evenly, “Why?” Something about the flickering gleam of her eyes unsettles him. The frozen line of her smile seems sterile. “Defend yourself.”

He thinks to scoff. Thinks to roll his eye and ask, _“Seriously?”_ because come on, that’s not even a question, right?

…he doesn’t though. He knows better than that.

Lilith doesn’t ask something unless she wants you to answer.

Her smile reads like a feral baring of teeth. Bull half expects her jaw to unhinge and devour him. “Defend yourself,” she repeats.

“I mean, I can think? I have, y’know, _thoughts?_ ”

“Not good enough,” she says. “Defend yourself.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, I’m just saying—the Tranquil aren’t exactly losing much. They couldn’t feel anything before, they can’t now. Not much of a change.”

“Not good enough.” Her face is impassive, meticulously neutral, and maybe that’s what makes the frigid cut of her words even worse. Her stare is unblinking. Fathomless. She asks, coolly, “Why are you better?”

“I-” He’s not sure what she’s looking for, or how exactly to explain. He feels like the answer’s just sort of obvious. It freaks him out a little that he can’t think up a more definitive explanation. “Okay. You lose a Tranquil, and you lose, what, an archivist? A chambermaid? They don’t really add much to anything, is all I’m saying. They just kind of exist.”

“People,” she takes care to sharply enunciate, “are not tools. Their worth is not dependent on what use they are to you.”

“They’re _already_ kind of dead, though, right?”

The slightest twitch of muscle turns her false smile into a wicked sneer. “The Tranquil have already been wronged,” she states. “Atrocities heaped upon one another do not cancel each other out.” Her head cocks, a sharp and predatory motion disguised as curiosity. “You would rip their hearts from them,” she coldly states, “and then use that to justify taking their heads, too?”

“I…uh.”

Uh…

“The worth of a person is not defined by what was _done to them_. The only force in this world that can make a person worthless is _themselves_.” Her fingers squeeze tighter into his shoulder, a warning, or a threat, or both. “So tell me.” Bull fights not to flinch as she brings her face unsettlingly close, eyes burning into him, through him, that sharp and crackling thing beneath her skin seeping through her eyes like so much black smoke. “How much are you worth?”

“Look, boss-” He doesn’t realize he’s been steadily leaning away from her until the back of his head brushes the wall behind him. The muscles of Lilith’s jaw tense beneath her skin. “…forget it,” he concedes. “Sorry. I take it back.”

The slow, calculated narrowing of her eyes sets his teeth on edge. “This isn’t a lecture. I don’t want your apologies. I want you to understand the words I’m saying to you. I want you to understand them well.”

Shit.

Shit.

“The loss of life,” she says, the thin edge to her voice slicing deep, “is _always_ a loss. The usefulness of that life is irrelevant. The only purpose of a person is to _exist_. People are people. And we _protect_ them.” She jerks him back forward by his shoulder, and Bull is startled by how easily she does it. He feels himself locked in place, trapped. “So whose side are you on, Bull?”

“This one, obviously.”

This time she pulls him near, forces him to lean down and look her square in the face. “ _Whose side?”_ she demands. Whatever beast coiled within her body seems to unfurl, the easy lines of her face turning severe, teeth tightly sealed. The bubbling venom of her words threaten to spill from every pore. Bull’s shoulder starts to ache. “ _Whose fucking side?”_

“…people,” he finally thinks to say.

“ _Which people?”_

“All of them,” he rushes. “…all of them.”

Her hand snaps to one of his horns and wrenches his head to the side. “ _You are not better than them,_ ” she coldly informs. “ _You are not worth more than them._ _You do not get to belittle their deaths_.”

“Yes,” he finds himself automatically agreeing. “Yes. Right. Sorry. Right.”

She releases him and straightens, the sharpness receding, eyes clear. “Remember whose side you’re on,” she warns, but her voice has already snapped back to that familiar breezy inflection he’s used to. When she nods to the door it’s with an easy coolness. “Come on—we’ve got an elf to talk to about some flowers.”

“…yeah.” Bull nods, mechanical, and stands to follow. “Let’s…let’s help some people.”

Lilith flashes a crooked little smile meant to be warm, and Bull sees only a warning.

 


End file.
